


Sellswords Self-Care, Part 2

by sno4wy



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Jarlaxle taking care of Artemis, Jarlaxle washing Artemis, Jarlaxle's human disguise, M/M, Waterdeep, Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, bathhouse, lavender-scented baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-27
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-12-25 09:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18258680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sno4wy/pseuds/sno4wy
Summary: Entreri allows Jarlaxle to take him to a bathhouse. Although initially defensive, the assassin eventually surrenders to Jarlaxle's ministrations and even enjoys them. That is, until Jarlaxle's customary Jarlaxleness ruins it for everyone, except for Jarlaxle of course.





	Sellswords Self-Care, Part 2

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place post-canon, circa Waterdeep: Dragon Heist. This fic is a standalone but it does follow up/reference stuff in my "Sellswords Self-Care, Part 1" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/16934682) and "The Color Between The Lines" (https://archiveofourown.org/works/17130530/chapters/40287758).

“You reek!” said Jarlaxle, crinkling his nose and adopting an exaggerated expression of disgust.

“I do not.” replied Artemis Entreri, standing (though it scarcely seemed possible) a tiny measure straighter than he already was.

“Perhaps you’ve been mired in your own filth for so long that you can no longer smell yourself.”

“More likely that you douse yourself with so much perfume that you can’t stand breathing in anything not similarly slathered.”

Despite his complaints, the assassin allowed the mercenary to lead him down the busy city street. Jarlaxle was wearing his ridiculous human disguise again, and Entreri scowled at the dark, wavy strands that bounced against his companion’s back. 

_At least he’s decently clad,_  Entreri thought to himself, and winced as his mind inevitably painted for him the selfsame scenario, but with Jarlaxle wearing only bandoliers and smallclothes again. The assassin suppressed a shudder and reflexively surveyed their surroundings, but found none of the pairs of eyes glued upon them from his imagined scenario.

Indeed, the citizens of Waterdeep were all busy tending to their own affairs. Merchants issued their final offers of unbelievable deals, couples hurried their children home, and street-lighters rushed from pole to pole. None spared more than a passing glance at the pair of “humans”, even with the distinct scalawag appearance of the one in the lead. However, the handsome man was too finely-dressed and well-groomed for the self-respecting citizens to decry him as a pirate, and his companion was so nondescript that there was hardly any point to sparing the latter any attention. 

Nonetheless, Jarlaxle tipped his fabulous hat each time a wandering pair of eyes met his own, and by the time that they’d reached the bathhouse, Entreri had lost count of how many times the feather had bobbed on his companion’s head. 

“I strongly wish not to do this,” the assassin grumbled as the mercenary opened the door to the establishment and stepped inside.

“Fear not, my  _abbil_ , I shall be with you every heartbeat.” Jarlaxle beamed as he held the door open.

“That’s precisely why I fear.” Entreri stepped past the threshold to find himself in a large antechamber. A large, empty antechamber. “Wait, where is everyone?”

“Everyone?” Jarlaxle quirked an eyebrow.

Entreri’s brow furrowed as he looked around. The establishment was respectable, and he didn’t dislike it, but because of its well-earned reputation, it was never without patrons, even in the early (or very late) hours of each day.

Yet, all the baskets that would normally hold the possessions of the patrons were empty and stood in neatly-stacked piles. All the towels were clean and similarly stacked, with not a single one discarded in the laundry hamper. 

The assassin covered his face with one hand. “You’ve bought the place?’

Jarlaxle’s laughter lifted Entreri’s eyes from underneath his fingers. "Of course not, my  _abbil_! I am not that much of a spendthrift, nor am I imprudent enough to attract unwanted attention, given what I’m trying to accomplish in this city.”

“Why is it so empty, then?”

“I rented it for the night!”

“I see. Yes, very frugal of you.”

Barely had the quip left Entreri’s lips did the assassin realize that the seeming spontaneity that led Jarlaxle to drag him out was actually yet another one of the drow’s machinations. Entreri’s arm dropped back to his side, his chin snapping against his chest as his head hung in defeat. “You’d been planning this all along.”

“But of course, my  _abbil_! After all, are you not the one who does not believe in coincidence?”

“With you, there is never coincidence,” Entreri intoned sarcastically.

Jarlaxle dipped into a quarter-bow. “You do flatter me so.”

The assassin snatched the hat from atop Jarlaxle’s lowered head and stalked to one of the doors leading to the next room. The transformed drow’s skin instantly reverted to its usual ebony, the dark locks disappearing and the ridiculous mustache disintegrated from view just in time for him to catch the hat that the human tossed back at him. He set it upon his head again, but his appearance didn’t change.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Entreri said as he entered the steamy main area, instantly regretting his words as he did. Floral scents saturated the thick air, but amidst the countless exotic notes was the distinct scent of lavender.

The assassin reflexively began to backpedal, but his progress was impeded by a pair of delicate yet strong hands set against his back. 

“No.” The assassin’s tone was firm, but it wasn’t steel in his eyes when they gazed back at the mercenary. Jarlaxle resisted a chuckle and willed away the recollection of a girl he’d seen attempting to bathe her cat. His eyes had met with the feline’s, and the resemblance between what he’d witnessed then and what he saw now was too striking to not remember.

“Don’t be so stubborn,” the drow chided as he pushed against his companion’s back. Despite Entreri’s best efforts to dig his heels in, the smooth floor was slick with moisture, and the human could find no purchase. 

“You will not release me unless I submit to your ridiculous request?” The assassin was trying to back-step now, to no avail. It hardly surprised him that Jarlaxle’s boots locked against the floor while his did not.

“I will not.” The mercenary finally stopped pushing, for they were but a few feet away from the largest basin in the room. Entreri felt the drow’s arms encircle his neck before he saw the ebony digits work at his cloak clasp. 

The assassin slapped the delicate fingers away. “I can undress myself.”

Jarlaxle touched his slapped hand to his heart and feigned a hurt look. “You do wound me so!”

Entreri snorted as he shed his cloak. “If a gentle blow so wounded you, perhaps you should rethink all of your ambitions and how frequently they put you – put  _us_ – in harm’s way.”

“Ah, but I simply wished to pamper you a little!”

“Jarlaxle does not ‘pamper’ anyone but himself, not without costs too high for my appetite,” Entreri retorted with a mirthless chuckle. He kicked one boot off, then another, both shoes landing sequentially next to his cloak. His shirt followed, then his trousers, the last to land on the pile his weapons belt, both blades falling upon the makeshift cushion with naught but a soft “fumph”. 

The mercenary shrugged, turned to retrieve two baskets, then pulled the assassin’s shed attire into one of them. His naked companion was kneeling by the side of the largest basin, a palmful of water held up to his nose. The ruffling of cloth drew Entreri’s attention, and when he glanced behind himself, he was surprised to see Jarlaxle disrobing as well.

“What are you doing?” Entreri scowled.

“Undressing,” Jarlaxle answered without pause.

“I can see that!" 

Jarlaxle halted. The corners of his lips turned up impishly. "If you’re going to watch, I could make it more interesting for you.”

Entreri’s head snapped forward, but not before allowing the drow to see a roll of his dark eyes. Entreri then focused his attention on lowering himself into the hot water, resisting the urge to plunge himself in over his head so that he didn’t have to listen to his companion’s musical laughter.

By the time that the assassin had fully immersed himself, the soothing hot water already chased the flamboyant mercenary’s antics from his mind. Entreri hadn’t realized how tense his muscles were until each fiber relaxed, the heat permeating his body and lifting the strain away. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the edge of the basin, his throat as bared as his any of his victims’ when he’d tugged their head back by the hair to press his dagger in. Yet, right then, Entreri didn’t feel vulnerable so baring himself, and he lifted both arms onto the edge as well, so that his body could float within the calming water. He lingered there  for he knew not how many heartbeats.

A sudden abrasion against his forearm snapped the assassin’s eyes open, and he withdrew his arm with a mighty push away from the edge. From the center of the pool, Entreri glared at the mercenary with narrowed eyes, one hand rubbing the abraded forearm. Jarlaxle was kneeling on one knee, a porous object held in his hands. Although he pouted, merriment danced in his ruby eyes.

“ _What_  is  _that_?” Entreri demanded, still rubbing his assaulted forearm.

Jarlaxle blinked and tilted his head. “This?” He held up the porous object.

“Yes.”

“A luffa.”

It was Entreri’s turn to blink. “Is that not the name for a vegetable from the far east?”

Jarlaxle nodded. “Aye, this is one and the same.”

Entreri held his forearm closer and squinted. “Why were you rubbing me with a vegetable?”

Jarlaxle chuckled and set the porous object down. He pulled a basket from around behind him, from which protruded other porous items, but these were items that Entreri recognized. Corals, lava stones, and other bathing implements that he’d seen in the Pashas’ palaces. 

“I imagine that you’re more familiar with these,” Jarlaxle explained as he lifted a piece of coral, “But I’ve never been fond of them. Too coarse, suitable for a woodworker to rough-finish a beam perhaps? Hardly appropriate for cleansing skin!”

“It was good enough for Pashas and nobles.”

“I am not a Pasha, nor am I a human noble. You are neither as well.” The drow gestured at his companion to return to the edge. “Come. You’ll like it, I promise.”

“When you put it that way, it makes me even more uneasy,” Entreri grumbled as he dubiously waded toward his companion. Upon reaching the mercenary’s toes, the assassin was instantly filled with regret, for the drow, kneeling as he was at the edge, towered over the human from the elevation granted to him by his perch. As Entreri met his companion’s eyes, his circumspection took in more details than he’d intended, and he wasn’t able to stop himself from observing that Jarlaxle’s skin was smoother and silkier than that of any of his former lovers.

And then, there were those ruby eyes. Deeper than blood, warmer than melted wax, more tantalizing than the richest velvet… the assassin felt lightheaded, and wondered if craning his neck back to look only at his companion’s face was restricting the flow of blood through the rest of his body. Or, perhaps it was the blackness of the drow’s skin, juxtaposing strongly against the light suffusing the room, causing his eyes to strain. 

“I’m getting out, it’s too hot,” Entreri decided aloud, and pushed himself up onto the landing next to his companion. He started heading for a stack of towels, but a dry hand on his arm stopped him. 

“Not yet,” Jarlaxle bade.

“'Yet’?” Entreri echoed.

Jarlaxle nodded, smiling with an innocence that Entreri couldn’t help but wonder if it was false. 

“What now?” Entreri asked, worn and exasperated.

“Sit,” Jarlaxle instructed, pointing at the floor.

Entreri raised an eyebrow.

“Or you could stand, although that would make it more difficult for me.”

“That makes me more inclined to stand." 

"Oh, do sit, my  _abbil_. The quicker you do, the quicker we can be done with this.”

Entreri lowered himself and crossed his legs. “What are you going to do?”

“Pamper you, of course!”

Entreri snorted. However, he only looked on curiously as Jarlaxle lifted the same arm that he’d been working on before, and began rubbing it with the luffa. Entreri wasn’t surprised to see suds rise with each stroke, and although the friction made him want to retract his arm, the disciplined human held still, repeating Jarlaxle’s promise to be done with it all as a calming mantra.

By the time that the mercenary had finished with the other arm, and was applying the vegetable to his back, Entreri was relaxed again. He didn’t want to admit it, but the drow’s ministrations felt good. Furthermore, his soak in the hot water allowed the scrubbing to lift the dirt, oils and dead skin that he knew had accumulated in his negligence, and the thorough cleansing made him feel almost as though he were being born anew. His tight-fitted leathers had begun to feel more than a little uncomfortable, just on the cusp of threatening to distract his perfect focus, but after this treatment, Entreri suspected that he wouldn’t need to worry about the possibility of such a distraction for some time. 

A bucketful of water suddenly emptied over the assassin’s head. It shocked him, but Entreri didn’t grouse. The water was drawn from the basin next to them, and Entreri could guess readily enough why Jarlaxle was pouring bucketfuls of water over him. Even had he not, the return of his companion’s attention to his back fully explained the situation.

“How did you think of using a vegetable as a bathing implement, Jarlaxle?” Entreri murmured, the softness of his voice surprising himself. 

“I learned it from another,” the drow cooed, “One of the people who also employed it in delectable dishes. Versatile, is it not?”

Entreri chuckled. “I know how much you enjoy versatile things.”

All that the assassin received in response was a soft push on his back. He understood his companion’s meaning, and scooted to the edge of the pool. It took some time to lower himself in again, for despite the steamy air, he’d cooled, and had to readjust to the perpetual heat. 

Finally managing to re-submerge himself, Entreri lifted both arms onto the edge and began to tilt his head back to re-assume his earlier floating repose. He was surprised when the back of his head met with something higher than he’d expected, a soft something that wasn’t the hard floor. The surprised man opened his eyes, only to find the ruby gaze capturing his own. He instantly understood from the way that his companion hovered over him, as well as the smooth incline pillowing his head, that Jarlaxle now knelt with both knees, and sat back upon his heels. 

“Jarlaxle…” Entreri began, but a soft “shhh” quieted him. One elegant ebony hand swept over the assassin’s eyes, and Entreri obediently closed his eyelids. His lips parted when he felt ten delicate digits press lightly against his scalp, but their soothing massage stole the surprised utterances from his mouth. Jarlaxle’s fingers worked in unison, deftly stroking, kneading, and – Entreri realized – scrubbing, as he felt foam grow out from underneath his companion’s digits. 

The assassin’s eyes fluttered, and he might’ve been embarrassed for it, if not for the last of the strain departing his body. He knew not for how long Jarlaxle worked at his scalp, but a regretful tinge pricked his chest when he felt his companion’s fingers disengage from his short locks, which they’d pushed into disordered spikes. Feeling the foam beginning to spill over his forehead, Entreri moved to swipe it away before it got to his eyes, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. The hand then moved to tug on his bicep, and Entreri compliantly lifted himself out of the pool. The suds had now drifted over his eyes, forcing the assassin to keep them closed, but Jarlaxle’s hand was still on his arm, and he trusted in his own careful footing.

The assassin allowed himself to be led away from the main pool to where he guessed was one of the auxiliary pools. The scent of lavender was stronger here, but he paid it no mind, figuring it to be an effect of the concentration of smells in the edges of the room. Entreri was surprised to hear the splash as, he guessed, Jarlaxle entered the basin. He crouched, then sat, dipping his legs into the pool, and felt the drow take his hands. He allowed himself to be pulled in, for the heat of this pool was similar to that of his body. However, as he slipped in, his feet didn’t immediately touch the bottom, and a momentary panic seized him as his head dipped below the surface. Entreri shoved Jarlaxle away as he beat his arms to bring his face to the air, and when he opened his eyes, again, they were again captured by his companion’s ruby gaze, which was regarding him curiously.

“I did not know that you feared water,” Jarlaxle quipped.

“I was surprised,” Entreri admitted before realizing the words had escaped him, and his face heated, but not from the water.

Jarlaxle simply smiled, and caught a wooden bowl floating nearby. Entreri paddled quietly while Jarlaxle lifted scoop after scoop of water to rinse the last of the suds from his hair. 

His task completed, the mercenary leaned back and allowed himself to float away like a leaf on a quiet pond. Entreri regarded the drow curiously. 

“What are you doing now?”

“Replenishing my scent.”

“Replenishing your scent,” Entreri repeated quietly to himself. “Replenishing…”

The assassin’s eyes grew wide. He sniffed at the water, but he couldn’t discern whether the concentration of lavender originated from it, or hung in the air. Turning swiftly, Entreri kicked at the water fiercely until he was at the edge, then lifted himself out with a single swift heave. His expression filled with dismay as he sniffed his forearm, shook it off, then sniffed it again. 

“You’d planned this all along!” Entreri shouted at the languidly floating figure.

“Perhaps,” the muffled voice responded.

Shaking his head with disbelief, the assassin stalked to the main pool. 

“Don’t do it, you’ll regret it,” sing-songed the voice from across the room.

Entreri plunged his entire body into the hot water.

* * *

“I told you that you’d regret it. There’s good reason for cooling baths, especially as autumn draws to a close,” Jarlaxle chided as he pulled the warm wet cloth from Entreri’s forehead and replaced it with another one that he’d just wrung the water from. The mercenary straightened his companion’s covers, and not for the first time, for the shivering man kept bunching it up around his smallish form.

“Shut up,” was all the assassin could manage from between his chattering teeth.

**Author's Note:**

> For more art and other goodies related to Artemis Entreri, check out my blog! http://artemis-entreri.tumblr.com
> 
> And come hang out with other Entreri (& Jarlaxle) fans on Discord: https://discord.gg/CF5zBc7


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